but I know that you will serve as
brilliantly as he did, to the eternal credit of the Republic. You must
be brave and strong for my sake--"

He would have given everything he had or ever could hope to have to be
back with her, and away from the bullying, sneering fellow-cadets of the
Corps. He kissed the letter--and then hastily shoved it under his
mattress as he heard footsteps.

He popped to a brace, but it was only his roommate Ferguson. Ferguson
was from Earth, and rejoiced in the lighter Lunar gravity which was
punishment to Grayson's Io-bred muscles.

"Rest, mister," Ferguson grinned.

"Thought it was night inspection."

"Any minute now. They're down the hall. Lemme tighten your bunk or
you'll be in trouble--" Tightening the bunk he pulled out the letter and
said, calvishly: "Ah-_hah_! Who is she?--" and opened it.

When the cadet officers reached the room they found Ferguson on the
floor being strangled black in the face by spidery little Grayson. It
took all three of them to pull him off. Ferguson went to the infirmary
and Grayson went to the Commandant's office.

The Commandant glared at the cadet from under the most spectacular pair
of eyebrows in the Service. "Cadet Grayson," he said, "explain what
occurred."

"Sir, Cadet Ferguson began to read a letter from my mother without my
permission."

"That is not accepted by the Corps as grounds for mayhem. Do you have
anything further to say?"

"Sir, I lost my temper. All I thought of was that it was an act of
disrespect to my mother and somehow to the Corps and the Republic
too--that Cadet Ferguson was dishonoring the Corps."

_Bushwah_, the Commandant thought. _A snow job and a crude one._ He
studied the youngster. He had never seen such a brace from an Io-bred
fourth-classman. It must be torture to muscles not yet toughened up to
even Lunar gravity. Five minutes more and the boy would have to give
way, and serve him right for showing off.

He studied Grayson's folder. It was too early to tell about academic
work, but the fourth-classman was a bear--or a fool--for extra duty. He
had gone out for half a dozen teams and applied for membership in the
exacting Math Club _and_ Writing Club. The Commandant glanced up;
Grayson was still in his extreme brace. The Commandant suddenly had the
queer idea that Grayson could hold it until it killed him.

"One hundred hours of pack-drill," he barked, "to be completed before
quarter-term. Cadet Grayson, if you